


Rigid

by Neyiea



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Gen, Sleep Paralysis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 20:08:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9564368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neyiea/pseuds/Neyiea
Summary: This isn’t the first time, nor will it likely be the last, that his crystal has alerted him to something that requires his attention after he’s already gone to sleep.The situation turns out to be something that he isn't fully prepared to deal with.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hopping aboard the 'Sportacus's crystal alerts him to Robbie being in trouble in the middle of the night' train. The night/morning after I decided to take a break from writing to focus on preparing for my exam I ended up having an episode of sleep paralysis, so of course I decided to make Robbie suffer through what I suffer through. (Sorry, Robbie.)

Trouble doesn’t often occur past nightfall in Lazy Town, but this isn’t the first time nor will it likely be the last that his crystal has alerted him to something that requires his attention after he’s already gone to sleep.

“Sportacus, it’s later than 8:08,” his AI reminds him as he springs out of bed.

“I know,” he acknowledges softly before commanding the door to open.

There’s always a certain edge of dread in his gut when something happens late at night, darkness and deep shadows spread over the town like a blanket and make it difficult to find the root cause of the trouble. His telescope is useless unless someone’s facing misfortune right under a street lamp, and even when he sets down on the pavement and strains to listen for anything that sounds out of place everything remains still and calm. 

He runs a loop through town, all of his senses heightened as he tries to find the source of the trouble, and when it seems clear that the problem is not in town he rushes to the border, feet instinctively carrying him past the cow billboard and up onto the metal platform to the silo that serves as an entrance to Robbie’s home.

He opens the top without second thought and almost dives right in, stopping only when he remembers that Robbie would likely be quite irate at his privacy being invaded without any forewarning. 

“Robbie? Robbie are you awake,” he calls down the chute, counting out five breaths without getting an answer in response before deciding he’ll accept any anger Robbie might hold against him for dropping in uninvited so long as it meant assuring himself that the man was alright.

He slips inside, arms folded against his chest as gravity quickly takes him down. When the steep drop begins to taper into something a little more like a slide he goes lax, ready to tuck and roll when he slips out of the metal encasement.

He lands in a crouch, blinks away any lingering disorientation quickly, and then stands to try and get a better look at his ill-lit surroundings. 

Robbie is reclining in his chair and at first nothing seems to be amiss. It just looks like he’s sleeping.

Then, despite the dim light, Sportacus notices that Robbie’s eyes are wide open.

“Robbie?” He steps closer. 

Robbie’s eyes very briefly flick towards him but he otherwise does not move, not even to tell Sportacus to leave.

The lack of response leaves Sportacus feeling deeply unsettled.

“Robbie, what’s wrong?” He comes even closer until he’s standing right in front of Robbie, who continues to sit still even as his eyes dart back and forth between indistinct shapes of machinery in the shadows of his lair, who is locked-up as though every single muscle in his body is tense.

Sportacus tries not to let his own worry overwhelm him, tries not to wonder what could have possibly happened to make Robbie unresponsive like this, and he carefully places his finger along Robbie wrist, palpating for his radial pulse and bringing up a timer on his display screen.

“I’m just taking your pulse Robbie, I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he explains, keeping track of the bounding pulse beneath his fingers with every passing second.

Robbie’s heart is racing. By thirty seconds Sportacus has felt the thrum of his pulse beat close to sixty times, and though he’s not sure about Robbie’s baseline he knows for sure that over one hundred beats per minute is outside of the norm for an adult. He takes another thirty seconds to watch Robbie’s chest rise and fall, counting the breaths and taking note of the equal but shallow expansion of his chest.

His respiration rate is above the norm too.

“Robbie, I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m right here, all right? Can you look at me?”

Robbie’s eyes glance over him briefly, and then back to the shadows. His mouth opens slowly, as if working his jaw requires insurmountable effort, as if he’s putting his all into trying to say something.

Sportacus can barely hear the sound of his exhale. He casts a look over Robbie’s face and his heart tightens when he reads fear in his expression.

“Robbie. There’s nothing over there. There’s no one over there. It’s just you and I down here, alright? Just you and me.” He moves his fingers from Robbie’s wrist to take a firm grip of his hand. “You and me.”

Robbie’s fingers twitch against him, and he takes in a shuddering inhale.

Then his body slumps, all the tension draining from him in a matter of seconds. His head lulls forward, enough to conceal his expression from Sportacus’s view.

“Robbie?” Sportacus kneels in front of him, trying to get a good look at his face and observing the quick, shallow breaths that Robbie is still taking. “Take a few deep breaths for me, like this.” Sportacus breathes in for a slow count of four, then out for a count of six. He does so again and again as Robbie eventually begins to mimic his breathing, until Robbie’s shoulders aren’t shuddering any more and his breaths have evened out.

Once his breathing appears to be under control Sportacus palpates his pulse again, and is relieved to find it high but within the normal range.

“Are you okay Robbie? Please answer me if you can.”

Robbie glances at him, and Sportacus takes a good look at his heavy lidded eyes, the dark circles under them, the exhaustion that seems to emanate from every pore.

“I’ll be alright, Sportaflop,” Robbie finally manages to answer, a noticeable lack of animosity in his tone. “I just couldn’t move for a few minutes, you know how it is.”

“No.” Sportacus lays his hands firmly upon Robbie’s knees. “No I do not know how it is. Is this a normal occurrence for you?”

Robbie sighs tiredly, and Sportacus immediately regrets pushing for information from someone who is so obviously fatigued.

“Sleep paralysis. Sometimes I wake up and find myself unable to move, usually accompanied by either auditory or-” Robbie’s eyes briefly flicker to the points he’d been so focused on before- “visual hallucinations.”

Sportacus heart clenches in his chest, and he wonders just what Robbie saw, in the shadowy gloom, that he had hardly been able to look away from.

“It’s over now, and it doesn’t happen to me very often, so I should be alright for a while.”

“But when it does happen again what is the best way for me to help you?”

Robbie leans back in his chair, eyes drifting shut as if the entire process has worn him out.

“You did good,” he murmurs, one hand briefly patting against Sportacus’s, still laid out upon his knee. “Physical touch was… Good. Don’t worry about my pulse. Guiding my breathing was okay, though,” he sighs, sinks even deeper into his chair. “Reassurance that it was just us here,” his eyes open a sliver before drifting shut again, “that was good too.”

His head lulls to the side suddenly and Sportacus jerks, hands moving up as if to grab a hold of Robbie’s shoulders before he processes the sound of soft snores.

There’s no way he’s going to wake Robbie up to demand more answers when it’s so obvious that the man needs sleep, so instead Sportacus takes a few moments to fret with the blanket draped haphazardly over him, straightening it out and making sure it’s actually covering him enough for Robbie to retain some heat.

He sticks around for a few more minutes than strictly necessary, as if to ensure that Robbie isn’t going to fall into a nightmare as soon as he departs, and when he does leave he goes through a mental checklist, repeating Robbie’s words in his head so that he’ll be sure to retain the information. He won’t waste time taking Robbie’s pulse if this happens again, he’ll just jump straight into the stuff that Robbie had tiredly admitted helped. 

Physical touch, good. Guided breathing, good. Reassurance, good.

**Author's Note:**

> Gosh, this is just really self-indulgent. I wish someone would come and hold my hand and tell me I was okay when I can't move, haaaaaa.


End file.
